Forever Beloved
by Kira of Tirmal
Summary: I can't say much for fear of spoiling the first chapter. However, I can say that this story is set during Martin's lifetime and is VERY MartinRose. No flames, but please review!
1. Midwinter's Day

Author's Note

The standard: I don't own anything connected to Redwall, or this story, except for Lily.

I shall repeat my warning: this story is VERY Martin/Rose, and is drowning in fluff.

No flames please. Constructive criticism is not only welcome, but solicited.

***

Chapter 1: Midwinter's Day

            _He walked swiftly through Noonvale, paws crunching on the day-old snow. Tonight was the night, he knew. It had to be before he lost his nerve. He reached into the pocket of his tunic. Good, it was still there. He smiled, remembering the care he'd taken making it. It had taken an entire month. He hoped she'd be pleased._

_            The smile faded from his face as he approached Council Lodge for the midwinter feast. Now was the time. He had to ask her tonight, or else he knew that he never would. Tonight, the first night of the brightening of the year._

_            He entered Council Lodge shaking snow from his cloak, looking around nervously. She spotted him, waved, and came running over._

_            "Martin! There you are. Why were you late?"  She took his cloak and hung it up, and then hugged him briefly and kissed his cheek. The kiss jolted him back to his senses._

_            "Hello, Rose," he mumbled into her shoulder. "I'm sorry I'm late. I had something to finish up."_

_            Rose took his paw and led him up to the head table. "You're sitting with me tonight," she said. When he didn't reply, the mousemaid turned to glance at him. "What's wrong?"_

_            Martin averted his eyes. "Nothing's wrong. Don't worry about me." She nodded, still suspicious but willing to let it go, and turned back around._

_            The food was, as always, fantastic. Martin forgot his nervousness and talked and laughed with his friends. It wasn't until at last the meal was over that he remembered. Drawing the ring out of his pocket, he stared at it. It was a simple band of sycamore wood (sycamore being the easiest wood to come by in Noonvale these days), set with a piece of rose quartz. The Warrior mouse drew a shaky breath, tuned to Rose, and took her paw._

_            "Rose," he whispered, "will you marry me?"_


	2. The Rambling Rosehip Players

A/N: please forgive my lack of agricultural knowledge! I just had to think of _something_ for them to do outside in November, and since they're a farming community, I thought…well…if you want to review and correct me, please be my guest!

Further A/N: Seadog Driftwood, thanks for the heads up! I went back and checked the book, and sure enough, I'd forgotten two of the Rambling Rosehip Players…*blushes*

Chapter 2: The Rambling Rosehip Players

            It took Martin a full five minutes after waking to realize that he had only dreamed of proposing to Rose. He looked around the small room at Redwall Abbey that he shared with Grett Fieldmouse. The window was open. The Warrior—former Warrior, he corrected himself—stood and walked over to it. The cold air struck his scarred face, wakening him fully. It was hard to believe that after all this time—had it really been fifteen seasons?—he still dreamt of Rose, and of what might have been. Every July 16th, the anniversary of her death, he relived that horrible moment in his sleep. At other times, he dreamed of what their life together might have been. Like last night.

            Martin sighed and turned away from the window. He liked to think that Rose was his guardian angel. But she couldn't be, because his dreams of her were so mocking, almost a punishment. Unless…but no. If she didn't love him, she just wouldn't bother being his guardian angel. Rose wasn't the type to prolong vengeance over fifteen seasons. Actually, he amended; she wasn't the type to seek vengeance at all.

            Grett, who was a kitchen apprentice, had risen before dawn even in the winter, and was gone. Martin mulled over his dream as he washed, dressed, and headed downstairs to Cavern Hole for breakfast. At the bottom of the stairs, he met Columbine going up, carrying a tray.

            "Morning, Martin," she said, not bothering to hide the strain in her voice.

            "Morning, Columbine," he responded. "How's Gonflet this morning?"

            " Better, I think, but still pretending to have a stomach ache. It was real yesterday, of course, but I don't believe him anymore. He's making me serve him breakfast in bed, so I'm giving him only bread and water. I can neither tickle, pry, nor threaten his paws from the bedpost that he hangs onto to stop me from carrying him down. I give you full permission to take any desperate measures if he's not up by lunch. See how he acts then." The mousewife stalked away, muttering.

            Martin chuckled. He had been elected Infirmary Brother just the previous week, but hadn't gotten around to moving to the Infirmary yet. He had also refused the title "Brother." Most everybeast in the Abbey, including himself, thought that "Brother Martin" did not fit his character at all.

            The new Healer finally reached Cavern Hole and sat down between his friends Gonff and Dinny. He reached for a bowl of porridge and started eating.

            "Morning, Martin," Gonff said.

            "Yurr, gudd mornin, Marthen," Dinny added. "You'm be doin' anything today?"

            Martin considered. Gesturing with his spoon, he replied, "Good morning. Yes, Dinny, I might get around to moving today. Maybe I'll help you plant the winter crops, too, if you don't have a problem with it."

            "Whoi, o'course, you'm may 'elp."

            They went outside into the frigid cold, heading towards the south wall where the winter crops were to be planted. Every now and then Martin would throw a random snowball at a pack of Dibbuns. It would usually miss—he aimed poorly on purpose—but the Healer mouse would always have to dodge five or so retaliatory snowballs and almost as many retaliatory insults.

            "Yah, Martin, you cudden hit de Abbey gates!"

            "Hurr, hurr, Oi'll get 'ee wid this'un!"

            "Cummon, stand an' fight!"

            Martin, Dinny, and some others who had come to help spent a quiet morning planting winter crops. They broke for lunch, and then resumed the work.

            Evening shadows grew long, earlier than usual, because Midwinter's Day was a month away. The workers, stiff and cold, trudged back to the Abbey. They were rounding the west wallcorner when a burst of song wafted over the parapet, floating down to where they stood.

_"We're the Rambling Rosehip Players,_

_And we please both old and young._

_Over field serene and forest green,_

_Our praises have been sung!"_

            Martin froze in his tracks. He listened for a moment, and turned to the planting party. "Who's singing that? Where's it coming from?"

            Trimp gestured at the wall. "I think 'tis coming from outside, Martin."

            The Healer was off like a shot to the main gates. Skidding to a halt inside the entry arch, he fumbled with the crossbar for a minute, and then swung the gates open wide. He scrambled out onto the snowy pathway like a little Dibbun, yelling in delight.

            "Rowanoak! Ballaw! Kastern! Trefoil! Buckler!Celandine! Gauchee!" Rowanaok the badger, shocked, nonetheless swept her friend up in a bone-shattering hug.

            "Martin! You're here!"

            "Absoballylutely splendid to see you, old chum!"

            "What happened to your sword?"

            "Yurr, 'tis gudd to see 'ee again, Marthen!"

            "You live here?"

            The Healer broke away from the hug, massaging his half-crushed ribs. "Hello, my dear friends! Yes, Gauchee, I do live here. Welcome to Redwall! What brings you so far south?" A shadow of worry crept into his voice and heart. "Noonvale doesn't need any help, does it? You're not in trouble?" He waited with bated breath for the answer, wondering if he would be able to stop his sanity from cracking again if it was yes. If Noonvale was in trouble, then all the sacrifices that all of them had made had been in vain.

            A hedgehog and two moles emerged from behind the cart, fastening on cloaks. The hedgehog spoke.

            "Nay, Martin. Noonvale's in no trouble. We're just taking one last tour before the troupe retires from its travels and becomes Noonvale's resident performers."

            Martin's jaw dropped. He took a step forward. "Pallum? Bungo? Grumm?" A lump rose to his throat, and to disguise the fact that he felt ready to cry for the first time in several seasons; he hugged all of them at once, ignoring the hedgehog's spikes.

            They were just about to go into the Abbey for dinner when a clatter sounded from inside the cart. A young female's voice called out, "Bungo, where'd you stash my cloak? I can't find…oh, never mind. Here it is."

            The speaker, a mousemaid, leaped lightly to the ground, fastening her cloak. Martin had to blink a few times to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming. She looked just like Rose! Except…her eyes were green, instead of hazel. In spite of himself, Martin felt a wave of bitter disappointment wash though him.

            The mousemaid, noticing him, held out a paw. "Hello. My name is Lily, daughter of Brome."

            He shook her paw, smiling pleasantly and swallowing his disappointment. "Nice to meet you, Lily. I'm Martin." The Healer let go of Lily's paw and gestured everyone inside. "Please, everybeast, follow me. It's dinnertime now, and we'll find you quarters after we eat."

***

            During dinner, Martin was plied with questions about how he'd come to know the playing troupe. He said, in a loud enough voice that all the guests could hear and take the hint, "During my wandering seasons, I stopped over in their home, Noonvale, for a little while. This troupe was there, too. I helped them get rid of some stranded sea rats that were hanging around, causing trouble, but couldn't stay for…ah, personal reasons. So I kept going south."

            Chugger clambered up on his lap. "What're perthonal reasons, Marthen?"

            Trimp batted the small squirrel's ears reprovingly. " 'Personal reasons' means that he doesn't want to tell you because you don't need to know. It's bedtime now, Chugg. Come on." The hedgehog maid lifted up Chugger and carried him out of the room.

            Pallum leaned over to talk to his friend. "I should probably warn you about Lily. She's a little strange. Not slow," he added quickly. "On the contrary, she's brilliant. Just…out of it, maybe. You see, we think that she's a seer. But she doesn't see the future. She sees the past. She says that she sees the spirits of the dead."

            Martin stared. "The spirits of the dead?"

            "Aye. And probably she's been seeing them all her life, because it's not a shock for her when they appear. Sometimes you'll be talking to her, and she'll just…go away. She'll look over your shoulder, and then her face will go all slack, and her eyes blank." The hedgehog shuddered. "It gives me the creeps. Nobeast in Noonvale knows if she's hallucinating, or actually seeing ghosts."

            Martin blinked. "Thank you for telling me, Pallum. But why do you call this a warning?"

            Pallum shifted a little, clearly uncomfortable. "Because the spirits, if they're really there, tell her things. Not always true things. One of the things that Lily claims she learned from them is that you are related to her. Not by birth. By marriage. She might start to call you her uncle."


	3. Treasures

Chapter 3: Treasures

            In light of all the new visitors, more bedding space was needed. Martin was quick to volunteer to finally move so that somebeast could use what used to be his half of the room. He gathered up his clothes and took them to the tiny chamber adjoining the Infirmary, and then returned for his box of treasures. This was a small box in which he kept the things he held most precious. However, as he carried it into his new room, he tripped on the threshold and sent the objects flying.

            Martin sighed in annoyance at this own clumsiness. He set about picking up the items. There was a drawing of Redwall that Chugger had made for him. There was a poem that he'd written about his beloved Abbey, but had never shared out of embarrassment. It lived in his treasure box because he could think of nowhere else to put it. Denno had drawn a beautiful picture of Martin's parents, which was also in the box. 

            He stared at the next piece of parchment for a long time. It was the warning riddle that Poleekin had given them fifteen seasons ago. He'd kept it because it was in Rose's writing, and he had no other memento of her.

            The last item was his mother's treasure bag. It contained her diary (which he had never read out of respect for her privacy), a lovely carved spoon that presumably would have been used to feed him, and her wedding ring.

This ring always vaguely disturbed him. On the inside was carved the name of every creature to wear it for the past five generations. It had been passed from mother to daughter, or, in the absence of a female child in that generation, from mother-in-law to daughter-in-law. After Sayna's name was a small space, intended for Martin's hypothetical sister or wife to carve her name into on her wedding day. The thing that always bothered him was that there was just enough room left on the inside surface for a four-letter name.

The Healer sighed and replaced the beaded bag into his own treasure box. He slipped the box under his bed, into a shadowy corner where none but he could find it.

***

The next day dawned as cold as the last. More snow had fallen during the night. This time, Martin was up at dawn. He sat at a breakfast table with Ballaw, Abbess Germaine, and Skipper. They were discussing the play that the Rambling Rosehip Players hoped to put on.

"Personally, I think 'The Courting of the Frog and the Caterpillar' would be nice," the otter mentioned.

Ballaw swallowed a pastry, reached for another, and said, "Nope, sorry old chap, but we've done that one at the last three bally places we stopped. The troop's rather tired of it, wot?"

Martin grabbed the last pastry from under the hare's nose. "What about a magic show? I heard from Brome that you're good at that."

The hare stared at him. "When were you flippin' well talking to Brome, old chap?"

"Or you could do several small shows," the Abbess interjected, inadvertently saving Martin from having to answer. Hard of hearing as she was, she hadn't heard the hare's question.

Ballaw licked the last of the honey off of his paw as he considered the prospect. "Done! That sounds good." He peered out of the window at the falling snow. "Besides, we might find ourselves snowed in here for a while."

Skipper rose. "Well, feel free to stay for as long as you like, matey. G'day."

***

Martin was organizing the Infirmary, putting all of the herbs, medicines, and books in places that he would find them readily, when Lily came in. Her strange green eyes roved around the small room. The Healer had never seen green eyes on a mouse before. When the mousemaid spoke, she managed to drive a knife into his heart without having known him for more than a day.

"Tell me about my aunt, Uncle Martin."

He turned around. "I'm not your uncle, Lily," he said. The words came out calmly, almost too calmly. "I have to ask you to stop calling me Uncle, and to never do so around Redwallers. Questions might be asked."

She cocked her head in puzzlement. "Why? You could just say that you're a close friend of the family. In some families, close friends of the family are called Uncle. It's true, after all. You _are_ a good friend of the family. Well, not all of it. Not Grandpa. But Grandma, and Papa, and Mum think highly of you. Besides, I like calling you Uncle."

"But I'm not your uncle." He drew a deep breath. "Your aunt and I were never married." His voice was bitter now, bitter with memories. The Healer remembered the one chance he'd had to tell Rose…

_It was two hours before dawn. Martin bent over Rose's sleeping form. He touched her shoulder and whispered her name to wake her. The mousemaid opened her eyes slowly, yawned, and asked, "Is it time to go yet?" He nodded wordlessly._

_She smiled a little, took his paw, and squeezed it. "Then I'd better go wake Grumm." The moon and fading stars reflected in her hazel eyes for a moment as she stood up, and Martin was struck again with how beautiful she was._

_"Rose!" He called after her, knowing somehow that this was going to be his one chance._

_The mousemaid turned. "Yes?"_

_Martin suddenly found that he couldn't say the words. His mouth moved soundlessly for a moment, and then the Warrior heard himself say, "Be careful. Please, Rose, don't…don't do anything stupid," he finished lamely._

_Rose smiled at him. "Don't worry, Martin. I'll be fine." The Warrior gazed after her, not knowing that he would never see her again._

He shook his head to clear the vision away from his mind's eye. "No, Lily, I'm sorry. I cannot let you call me that. And I can't tell you about your aunt." The Healer's gray eyes were suddenly stormy with long-unshed tears.

His would-be niece shrugged, hopped down from the bed where she'd seated herself, and walked out of the Infirmary.


	4. Harvest Moon

Chapter 4: Harvest Moon

It was two weeks later. The Rambling Rosehip Players had been completely snowed in. So they put on shows for the Redwallers every third night. Martin spent a lot of time with his Noonvale friends, catching up on the news. He was very pleased to hear that everything had been going very smoothly since he'd last been there. Everybeast in the valley except for Urran Voh held no blame to him whatsoever, and in fact, many wished that he could have stayed. Pallum chuckled when he mentioned that in the first season or so after he'd not come back, a number of the creatures who wished him back were (relatively unobservant) females of his own age, although his sizeable fan club had dwindled over the seasons as the members married others in Noonvale. Martin and Lily avoided each other.

Some of the Redwall moles cornered him one day and announced that, while they didn't want to depress him, they had decided the three founders—himself, Bella, and the Abbess—would receive, if they wished, hidden tombs. Martin shrugged and replied that he didn't see any harm in it, so if they didn't mind the extra work, he would accept their offer.

Immediately, he was completely swamped with questions of how he'd like it built. He gave them an idea that he had: a small room off of Cavern Hole, which opened with a hidden doorknob. The hidden doorknob would be part of a frieze of a rose blossom. The moles, knowing that the rose was their friend's favorite flower, said that this was perfectly all right. 

They actually finished the tomb before deciding completely on their own that it was too small, not dignified enough, and too easily discovered. Martin was completely mortified. Not only were these moles usually not the slightest bit pushy, but also the Healer had really latched onto the idea of being buried behind an image of the flower for which his sweetheart was named. However, by the time he'd been able to find a single mole who was not too busy to talk, they had already burrowed so far under the foundations of Cavern Hole that they had to keep going or the entire Abbey would collapse. The mouse threw up his paws and relented. He supposed that it didn't truly matter where he was buried anyway. He would be dead, so he wouldn't really care.

On Midwinter's Eve, Martin had another dream.

_This time, it was one of those golden nights between summer and autumn, when the air was still warm but attention was starting to turn to the harvest, when the smell of leaves began to ride on the air, and the flourmills were becoming increasingly busy. They were in Noonvale again, after the wedding feast of a squirrel couple. It had been the first wedding that the Warrior mouse had attended in his entire life. _

_Martin and Rose strolled by the lake in the center of Noonvale. They had left the orchard, where the feast was being held, because the large numbers of creatures and all the noise had seemed stifling. The mist that sprayed from the waterfall cooled their faces, relieving the lingering heat of the day, and the light of the full moon reflected in the water and in their eyes._

_The Warrior sighed contentedly. He had never known such happiness. Here he was, living in Noonvale. He hadn't actually given up his sword yet, but he was considering it, because he knew that Rose's parents would never really approve of him if he didn't. He was in love, and the moon was shining, and he wouldn't need to fight for his life ever again, because it looked like he would be able to live a happy life here. Hesitantly, he took Rose's paw._

_They reached a secluded spot near the small cliff over which the waterfall tumbled. The mousemaid turned to face him and looked at their intertwined fingers._

_"Martin," she began slowly, "I—I…there's something that I must tell you."_

_The Warrior was completely mesmerized by Rose's eyes shining in the moonlight. "Yes, and there's something I need to tell you, too. Do you want to go first?"_

_"Not really. But I will anyway." Rose paused. "I—what I have to say is…" She swallowed against her hesitation. "Oh, I don't know why it's so hard for me to say this! I—I think am in love with you." She smiled. "There, I've said it."_

_Martin could only stare at her for a minute. "That's what I was going to say! That I love you. That I've loved you since the minute we met." He stepped closer to her. "Do you really mean it?"_

_Rose nodded, beaming. She stepped closer to him and put her paws around his shoulders, hugging him close. On impulse, Martin pulled away from her just a fraction, closed his eyes, and moved to kiss her. But an instant before their lips touched—_

—he woke up. The Healer opened his eyes to the darkness of his room in the Infirmary. Snow fell softly outside his window, and the candle that he kept by his bedside had burnt itself down. Martin suddenly felt an incredible sorrow creep over him. He got up, replaced and relit the candle, and fished under his bed for his treasure box.

There was a new item in the box. Martin pulled it out and studied it. He understood that it was completely pointless to continue making it, but he thought that he'd ask the acting troupe to take it back to Noonvale with them and put it on Rose's grave. Or maybe he'd hide it in his tomb, so that if there was anything beyond death, he could come back to get it and give it to her.

He pulled out a small whittling knife from his bedside table and started working by candlelight. It was beginning to take shape. It was a little rough so far, but that could be fixed. The Healer had been working on it since his last dream. He would set it with rose quartz if he could, or another stone if that was all he could find.

Martin sat up all through the night, working on the ring for a marriage that he knew would never occur.

***

The next morning, he sought out Lily. They sat across from each other at the breakfast table: the Healer red-eyed and sleep-deprived, and the young seer staring through him with her strange, green eyes. Martin let a moment of silence pass before he spoke.

"Your aunt was an amazing creature," he told her, his voice barely a whisper. "Certainly, she was beautiful—take this as the delirious observation of a lovesick creature—but to me, she was and still is the most beautiful mouse I've ever known. But she was also beautiful of character. She was always very kind to others, unless they had wronged her or those she held dear. If something _did _happen to somebeast she loved, she would stop at nothing to make sure that the creature in question was rescued, or whatever the case happened to be, if at all possible. Her determination was like iron! But she was never one for vengeance."

Lily smiled. "I heard that she was the only one who could ever boss you around."

The Healer chuckled. "For a little while, yes, she was. But what could I do? I was in love with her." His eyes were suddenly faraway, and he sighed. "I still am, if it comes to that. I thought that to win her affection, I needed to obey her in all things." He smiled a little. "It just so happened that the only times she did boss me around was when it truly mattered—when somebeast's life or safety depended on it. Usually, it was my own. But at the time, I didn't notice it."

"Why are you suddenly telling me this?" the mousemaid asked.

"Because I've been having dreams lately," Martin replied. "I've been dreaming of what our life together could have been like. Of Noonvale. I always wake up just when my happiness is about to be completed." His gray eyes sought hers, and Lily shrank from the uncertainty that she saw in them. "I've tried everything to stop the dreams, Lily. Everything. The only thing that I hope is that by telling you, by getting some of this weight off of my chest, they'll end."

Lily shook her head. "I'm sorry, Martin. I don't know what to tell you. I don't know how to help you. But thank you for telling me about my aunt Rose."

The Healer sighed, stood up, and walked away. The mousemaid stared after him, wondering.


	5. May Eve

Chapter 5: May Eve

Winter passed slowly, but pass it did. The moles finished Martin's tomb and set to work on the tombstone. The Rambling Rosehip Players continued to perform for the Abbeydwellers. Martin finished his ring. He took to wearing it around his neck on a length of twine, tucked inside his tunic so that nobeast could see it. He had three more dreams.

After a time, the snow melted, and the grass started to grow back. In mid March, the acting troupe announced that it must be on its way the next day. A grand feast was planned for that night to see them off. The feast lasted well into the night, and everybeast went to bed exhausted.

Martin dreamed again that night.

_This time, the dream felt far more vivid and real than ever before. This time, he knew that he was dreaming. He was standing at the edge of a great evergreen forest. A path stretched before him, but it was lost in the gloom between the trees far ahead. He started forward. The scent of the pine needles crushed under his footpaws wafted up to his nostrils. The forest was cool and shady, and the Healer mouse found himself greatly enjoying the walk. The path wound on for a while through the trees, and then stopped in a clearing._

_Martin stepped into the open space. Starlight and moonlight filled the glade with a silver glow. A gentle breeze wafted through the air. But all the beauty of the scenery was lost on the Healer as a creature stepped from the trees on the other side of the clearing._

_It was Rose._

_She took a few steps forward, beamed at him, and held out her paws in welcome. Martin gave voice to a strangled exclamation of joy, and the two mice ran to each other. Martin buried his face in Rose's shoulder and wept shamelessly. She slipped her paws around him, and murmured,_

_"Oh, my love, don't cry. Please. I came to you tonight because I wanted it to be a happy occasion."_

_The Healer wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his tunic and looked at her. The sight of her eyes in the starlight dazzled him. "Rose, is it really you?"_

_"Yes. I decided that since I needed to get back to Redwall anyway, I'd come south with the troupe. I also supposed that since you probably hoped that I came with the Players, tonight would be a good time to visit you." She smiled. "This isn't just any old dream, you know."_

_"_Back_ to Redwall?"__ Martin tried to stop himself from hoping that she meant what he hoped she meant._

_"Yes, of course. In addition to watching over Noonvale, I'm one of your guardian angels. Didn't you guess?"_

_He choked up again. "I didn't dare to hope! Oh, Rose, I love you so much." Martin hugged her close again, and this time Rose cried as well. After a moment or two, the mice pulled apart from each other, linked paws, and began strolling around the clearing._

_"So it was you behind the dreams all along?" Martin's glance was a little hurt._

_"No. It was not me. Just your sense of guilt playing tricks on your mind. Your completely misplaced sense of guilt, I might add." The mousemaid grinned. "You should know I'd never torture you like that. And I forgave you long ago."_

_"What about Lily? Does she really see ghosts?"_

_Rose laughed. "Once in a while, yes, I do appear to her. But usually she's just hallucinating. There's something not entirely normal about her mind, I think, but it's in no danger of hurting her or making her hurt others." She glanced at him. "You won't tell her, will you?"_

_"No. I won't tell anybeast."_

_They passed a happy few hours, sometimes talking quietly about this or that, sometimes just savoring each other's presence. After a while, they sat down at the base of an ancient spruce._

_Eventually, it drew on towards morning. Rose sighed happily and snuggled close to Martin, commenting, "I wish that I didn't have to go back soon."_

_"I wish that, too. I wish we could stay here forever." Martin put his arm around her. "Back where?"_

_"Back to the Between-The Worlds. As one of your guardians, I float around about three meters above your head and make sure you're OK. Or if you need a bit of privacy, or if you're asleep—the number of dreams that your other guardians let me give you is strictly limited—or if in general I'm bored because you're in no immediate danger, I go back to that nice little room off of Cavern Hole that you so kindly had built for me. Then I just daydream, or sleep, or talk to your other guardians. Often I go up to Noonvale, too." She smiled, a little smugly. "I'm good at being in several places at once, you see."_

_Martin stared at her, shocked. "_You _were behind the abandoning of that room?"_

_Rose's smile only widened. "Yes, I was. I did it for two reasons. First of all, when you're the guiding spirit of Redwall and I'm your deputy, I'm going to need someplace to stay. We don't want to be the objects of scandal, now, do we? Second of all, you're going to need a tomb that's easily forgotten, and has more than one door."_

_"Why?" The Healer was completely perplexed._

_"Because you're going to die childless, you dolt!"__ She glared at him in mock anger. "Or at least you'd _better_ die childless, because I wouldn't be the mother. Anyway, your heir, whomever he or she ends up being, is going to live long in the future. And I for one think that a nice long quest is going to be just the right thing to test his or her worth. So you can have a set of puzzles or riddles or something leading to your tomb, and then another set to the sword."_

_"Hmm."__ Martin nodded, impressed. "I like your idea. Do you mind if I use it?"_

_"Do you think I would have told you otherwise? I can even tell you a little bit about this creature."_

_"Seriously?__ You have visions of the future? What can you tell me?"_

_Rose was looking at Martin, but her eyes suddenly seemed strangely distant. "I can tell you that he—it will be a he—will be a mouse. A distant cousin of yours, in fact, from someplace in the far reaches of Mossflower. I don't know where his family lives, or how they're related to you, except that it's through your father's side. Don't go looking for them. He will be very much like you, in both appearance and character. And—" the mousemaid stopped talking, as if a vision was playing out before her eyes even as she spoke. "His name will be I-am that is."_

_"I-am that is? What kind of name is that?"_

_"It is in truth an anagram for his name, a mixing up of the letters. The 'I' stands for you, Martin, and the 'am that is' is his name." Rose shook her head as if to clear the vision. Her gaze suddenly focused again. "And that's all I can tell you, my love."_

_Martin had to fight to not completely fall into her eyes. "Well, thank you, Rose. It's better than nothing, that's for sure. So you think that I should write some riddles or something for him to find."_

_"Yes." She paused, and them smiled faintly. "But enough of this talk. It's not long until dawn, and I have to be off soon."_

_The Healer sighed and leaned on her shoulder. As he moved his head, he felt the ring on its chain slip a little beneath his tunic. He fished it out with his free paw, untied the string, and took Rose's paw in his._

_Rose looked at the ring with its quartz crystal gleaming in the moonlight. "What's that?"_

_"Laterose," Martin breathed, looking into her eyes again, "will you marry me?"_

_"Oh, Martin."__ The mousemaid kissed him on the cheek. "I wish I could. I truly do. I would marry you in an instant. But bonds like that are forbidden between the spirit world and the living world. It is…necessary that you be free from any official vows that bind you to me, so that you have full leeway to…to live your life to the fullest." Her eyes filled with pain. "To marry another, if you wish, or if circumstances require it."_

_"But I don't want to."_

_"I don't want you to, either. I'm just explaining why we can't be wed until your time has come."_

_She took his paw again. "For another thing, wouldn't it be harder for you in the long run? Wouldn't it make you feel a little…constrained to be so tightly bound to a creature whom you couldn't see? You'd probably fall in love again just as an act of subconscious spite! There's a good reason that the wedding vows contain 'Till death do us part.'  No, Martin, I cannot marry you yet. I've sworn to myself privately that I'll always love you. But we cannot be wed under the laws of Mossflower or Noonvale or the Dark Forest, or anything like that. Not yet."_

_ "Then I'll swear the same oaths to myself—even to you, if you'd like."_

_"If you want to.__ I'd like that very much."_

_"Will you at least keep this as a…what do they call it, a promise ring?"_

_Rose laughed. "I'm a ghost, silly! I'm not solid enough! Even if I took it now, you would wake up with it around your neck. But I will try it on."_

_Martin slipped the ring onto her paw. The rose quartz shone pinkish white in the fading starlight. Rose's eyes glittered with tears. "Oh, Martin," she whispered. "It's beautiful."_

_He put his paws around her shoulders. "Pretty it may be, but it isn't nearly  as beautiful as you are." Slowly, awkwardly, the Healer mouse moved to kiss her. This time, their lips actually touched for the briefest instant._

_All of a sudden, a swirling, tearing sensation ripped them apart. The sun had risen, and Martin would not be allowed to sleep in. He half-heard and felt some Dibbun or other shaking his shoulder and calling, "Marthen! Marthen!" The Healer had just enough presence of mind to pull the ring off of Rose's paw before he succumbed to awakening._


	6. Till Death Do Us Part

A/N: Warriormaid3000, thanks for the idea about the ring! I'd already written chapter six at the time (and the server was messing up my chapters), but hey—that's what reviews are for, right? To make our stories better…

Further A/N: Thanks, everyone who thought that there should be more, but I intended this to be the last chapter.

Chapter 6: Till Death Do Us Part

Bright sunlight lanced into the windows of Martin's room off of the Infirmary. The Healer mouse woke up to find a small squirrel shaking him by the shoulder, yelling "Marthen! Marthen!" in his ear. He sat up, set Chugger down onto the floor, and rubbed his eyes.

"Time to see our friends off, eh, Chugger?" The Healer chuckled. "Well, get out of here, then, so that I can get dressed."

They saw the Rambling Rosehip Players off after breakfast. The little cart went off up the path to a cacophony of cheering and yelling. Afterwards, Martin went into the little room off of Cavern Hole with a lighted candle and shut the door behind him. He set the candle down on the floor in the center of the room. The Healer knelt before it and took out his necklace. That morning he'd threaded his mother's ring onto it as well, and he grasped the older piece of jewelry as he spoke aloud.

"Rose," he said to the silence, "I do not ask for a sign that you're listening, since I know that you won't give it to me. If any of my other guardian spirits are listening, whoever you are, I ask that you carry this message to her." He began to recite what little of the wedding vows he knew. When he finished, took out a small pocketknife and, mentally apologizing to his female ancestors whose tradition he was breaking, bent close to the candle and carved four letters into the final empty space on the ring: R-O-S-E. As he finished, a thought crossed his mind: _So let it be. I will never marry, and will be content to be the last direct descendant of whoever my warrior ancestors were._ The healer was vaguely surprised to feel no particular pain at the thought. He raised the ring to his lips and kissed the stone.

"Dearest Rose, I miss you, and I will always love you, no matter what else happens." Martin put the ring away, picked up his candle, left the tiny chamber, and returned to the sunlit life of Redwall.

Behind him, the ghost of a mousemaid materialized out of the darkness and raised a paw in farewell.


End file.
